


Tinselfarts the Shelf Elf, Stuff of Nightmares

by Stratagem



Series: Resistance AU [2]
Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, christmas shenanigans, shelf elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:50:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratagem/pseuds/Stratagem
Summary: HQ gets a Shelf Elf. Only Norah likes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a big AU where Blink has been with the Underground since the beginning. I’ve named it Resistance AU! In this fic, John and Blink have been dating for a couple months. Norah is 6, and James Proudstar (Warpath) and Alison “Ali” Blaire (Dazzler) are both 15. This is based on the Shelf Elf craze that’s big around where I live. The premise is that you have this creepy stuffed elf doll and you move it every day so the kid in your family thinks it’s alive; they’re supposed to look for it every day.

“It’s looking at us.”

“I think you’re imagining things.”

“Nope, it’s definitely watching us, Marcos.”

John glanced up from his tablet to look at Clarice and Ali. The two of them were sitting across from him and Marcos at one of the mess hall’s tables, and both of them were staring with suspicion at the newest addition to the Underground. John glanced behind him at the red-clad menace that was perched on the doorframe, looking out over the mess hall like it was surveying its new domain.

“Just because it’s creepy as hell doesn’t mean it’s plotting our murders,” he said wryly as he turned his attention back to the tablet, trying to catch up on any news he might’ve missed while he was asleep.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Clarice said. Her feet were up on the edge of his chair, and she batted at his thigh with her socked toes. “It’s totally a tiny assassin.”

“Then get rid of it,” John said, glancing at her over the edge of the tablet. He put one hand around her ankle and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Clarice wrinkled her nose. “No way, it’s not that easy. Norah would pitch a fit.”

A couple days ago, a group of mutants from had gone dumpster diving in one of Atlanta’s suburbs. They had come back with computer parts, some furniture, and the ugly little elf that was currently haunting the HQ. It was red and skinny and had no hands or feet, but it had an old-school Christmas design to it. With the HQ’s first Christmas ever coming up, people were gathering whatever decorations they could scrounge, but honestly, John thought they could’ve done without the elf.

But Norah, the youngest permanent resident of HQ, had fallen in love with the elf. Her foster mom had followed the tradition of moving it around the house for the past couple years, and so when Norah had seen it, she had fallen in love. She had named it Tinsel, but James had renamed it Tinselfarts.

Mature. 

“I just want to know who keeps moving it,” Ali said. She sipped at her orange juice, a rare treat, and shook her head at the little elf. “It’s not me.” Her eyes flicked over to Marcos, who was honestly a likely culprit. He wasn’t against the elf as much as the others, mainly because his grandmother had apparently had something similar in her house. So he was immune or something.

“Don’t look at me,” Marcos said. He reached for another piece of toast from the small pile in the middle of their table. “I think it’s John.”

John raised his eyebrows. “No.”

“It’s not John,” Clarice said, her eyes on him. Her toes grazed his leg again. “Honestly? My money is on James.”

“Really? Because he was talking about throwing it out the window yesterday,” Ali said.

“That’s his cover,” Clarice said, “You know he has a soft spot for Norah.”

“Don’t we all?” Marcos said.

“Yeah, but James would do almost anything to make her happy,” Clarice said, pointing her spoon at Marcos. “So I think he’d stoop to moving that thing around.”

“I think it’s draining the happiness out of me,” Ali said dramatically, “It’s turning my joy into commercialized holiday cheer. I can _feel_ it.”

“Yeah, that’s not weird at all, kiddo,” Marcos said. He picked up his empty plate then picked up everyone else’s empty bowls, getting thank-you’s from the lot of them. “And hey, don’t forget, you and Elspeth have dishes this morning.”

“Mm, right,” Ali said, pushing away from the table and getting up. She looked at Clarice and John, one hand on her hip. She had come a far way from the skittish teen they had rescued from a mutant holding station a few months ago. “When James shows up, can you tell him that Mr. Worthington said we’re meeting in the vault today? Something about science experiments.”

“Sure,” Clarice said, “Are you guys planning on blowing something up?”

“If you are, I need you to not,” John said.

“If we blow anything up, it’ll be the joy-stealer,” she said, giving the elf one last glare.

“Don’t even,” Clarice said, shaking her head, “Norah would be devastated.”

“I know, so we won’t,” Ali said, “I think Mr. Worthington wants us to meet in the vault because he’s worried about an accidental explosion. It’s not in the plan.”

“Again, I’m asking you to not do that,” John said with a sigh.

“You never know when you might need a demolitions expert,” Ali said.

“Alison…”

Ali grinned and she held up her hands at his exasperated expression. “I promise we’ll be careful. Or I will. I can’t promise anything about James.”

“I’ll talk to him,” John said.

The girl headed out, following the direction that Marcos had gone, which led back to the kitchen area. It used to be a staff lounge for the bank, but over time they had converted it to a proper kitchen. It was a mismatched kind of place, but then again, the whole HQ was like that. None of the tables or chairs in their mess hall matched, the sitting areas were all piece-meal and random, the book cases in the library were all different sizes.

“I really don’t think we should blow him up or just toss him out, but…”

John glanced over at Clarice, wondering where she was going with this. She smirked at him.

“We could tell Norah he went on vacation. To Fiji.”

“I think that’s going to work about as well as blowing it up,” John said.

“What about a family emergency? One of his elf brothers is dying from the glitter flu?”

John stood up, holding a hand out to her. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet and then in for a hug. He kissed her temple. “We could get someone to write the letter for us.”

“What should the elf brother’s name be?”

“You’re more creative, you pick,” he said as they headed out into the hallway, staying to the side as other people headed into the mess hall. It was getting to be that time of the morning where most people were up and about, not just the early risers. Clarice was only an early riser because John got up at the crack of dawn and wouldn’t let her sleep in for very long.

“JingleJerk. Bill the Big Bell. Weezer the Rock Elf.” 

John laughed. “Weezer? Really?”

“It’s not like Norah knows who that is,” Clarice said, smirking up at him, “It could work.”

“Maybe we should just get used to it.”

Clarice sighed. “Yeah, maybe…Still. That thing is creepy.”

No arguing from him on that point.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^_^ Prompt fill. Still takes place in the Resistance AU! During the first Underground Christmas!

James peeked around a doorframe as a slew of curses raged down the hallway, followed by a few frustrated flashes of white light. Ali seemed to be having a bad time of it. He had heard the truck pull into the drive in front of the bank, signaling that Clarice and Ali were back from their supply run. One of the churches in town had donated some food so the Underground could have an actual Christmas meal, and the two of them had volunteered to go get it. With Clarice’s portals and Ali’s laser lights, they were more than equipped to handle any problems they faced.

Except maybe one of the brown paper bags falling apart.

“You didn’t drop it on your foot, did you?” Clarice’s voice called, cutting off Ali’s stream of colorful curses.

“Are you okay?” John’s voice added.

“It broke my foot, but I’m fine,” Ali said, a definite growl in her voice, then she laughed. “No, I’m kidding, John, stay in the truck.”

“I’ve got it,” James said, hurrying down the hallway. He had meant to come help them unload when they drove up, but he had been working on finishing a couple Christmas presents. Plus, John and Marcos had gone to give them a hand, so he thought it was covered.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” Ali said, reaching for the frozen turkey that had tumbled out of the bag when the bag broke.

James grabbed it before she could, and he grinned at her. “This is huge.”

“Good thing, too.” Ali scooped a few cans back into the bag. There were quite a few refugees staying at the HQ, so they would need to cook a pretty big meal. She gave him a small smile as she stood up, the torn bag nestled in the crook of her arm. Behind her and out the door, Clarice was out by the truck, directing Marcos and John as they unpacked the truck. A cool wind cut through the open doorway, and Ali shivered.

“Where’s your coat?” James asked the two of them headed to the big room that served as the HQ’s mess hall. There was a pantry and storage area behind the mess hall, in the kitchen, and that’s where they could put all the food.

“Huh?” Ali didn’t meet his eyes as she scooted past him, using her hip to bump open the door to the kitchen. “I must’ve left it in the truck.”

“You gave it away again, didn’t you,” he accused. James sat the turkey down on the table and then took the remains of the bag from Alison. “That’s the third one.” She kept giving her coats and jackets away to refugees, which was a kind gesture, but that just meant they kept having to find her new ones.

“I said it was in the truck,” Alison said, making a face. She poked him in the side, getting him to move, and she unpacked the cans from the bag.

“So if I go check the truck, I’ll find a coat.”

“Yeah.”

“And it won’t be Clarice’s.”

Ali flung a glare at him so quickly that he thought she might get whiplash. “James, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“You need a coat,” he said, leaning against the table, hands on the cool metal. “It’s cold outside, and it’s not super warm in here. You’ll get sick.”

“You walk around in short sleeves all the time,” she said, “Or no sleeves! So back off.”

“I don’t feel the cold like you do,” he said, following her as she headed back out the door, “You’ll freeze to death or something.”

“Exaggerate much?” They stepped out of the way, keeping close to the wall, so John, Marcos, and Clarice could get by. “John, tell James to stop bugging me.”

“James, stop bugging her,” John said absently. He was carrying two big boxes, one on top of the other.

“She’ll find a new coat,” Clarice added, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Give her yours if you’re so worried about her,” Marcos teased.

James resisted the urge to topple Marcos’ box out of his hands, instead deciding to follow Ali as she headed back down the hallway, going toward the truck. She stopped at the front doors of the bank, putting her hands on her hips, as a couple more people came in carrying bags.

“James, I appreciate your concern even if I think you’re being aggravating as all get out,” she said, “But I’ll be fine. Honest.”

“I just…don’t want you to get sick or something,” he said, making a face at her, “That’d suck. You’d be all gross, and I’d be bored.”

Ali smirked at him then headed out the door, hip-bumping him on her way. “Nuh-uh, because I’d make you go get me stuff and keep me company. I’d make you read sappy vampire romances to me.”

“No way, I’m keeping my distance,” James said, following her, wondering exactly how he was going to find her a new coat.


	3. Post-Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After Christmas fluff. Super short but sweet.

That was the third time that Clarice had stolen a cookie from his plate and the third time he had let it happen. The first one had been a chocolate chip, the second a snickerdoodle. Now it was one of the last gingerbread cookies. John watched as she bit off the gingerbread lady’s frosting covered head, her eyes meeting his, a dare lingering there. He simply blinked at her, letting her know that he was well aware of her thieving ways.

“You going to say something, Proudstar?” she asked, reaching for his glass of milk.

He picked it up and handed it to her. “Considering it.” He waved a hand at the plate that was in her lap, the plate that was still full of cookies. “It’s not like you don’t have your own…”

“They taste better when they come from someone else’s plate,” Clarice said. She bit off one of the gingerbread lady’s arms and then pointed the rest of the poor cookie at his plate. “Especially your plate.”

“I don’t think my paper plate is any more special than yours,” he said, moving the plate out of her reach and putting it on the wooden end table.

“Yours has a polar bear on it. Obviously, it’s better.”

John laughed and looped an arm around Clarice, pulling her to his side. They were sitting on one of the Underground’s many couches while post-holiday chaos happened around them.

Norah was testing out a pair of refurbished rollerblades indoors while Marcos held her hands, keeping her steady and pulling her down the hallway. The wheels clacked on the wooden floors, mingling with the rest of the noise. Upstairs, Ali was sitting with her legs through the railing, tuning the guitar that the rest of them had managed to get her. James was presumably out in the garage, messing around with the motorcycle parts that John had given him. The cookies had been made that morning by one of the moms who was staying at the HQ with her kids. She had said that one of their holiday traditions was to bake cookies after Christmas, so she had been given free reign of the kitchen and all the ingredients she needed.

Clarice’s arm reached across him, her fingers walking toward his plate. He snatched it before she could make it and held it out of her reach. “Thief.”

“I prefer risk-taker,” Clarice said, stretching her arm out toward the plate. When it became clear that she wasn’t suddenly going to develop telekinesis, she pulled her arm back and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What do you want for the other gingerbread cookie?”

“Don’t you want something else?”

“No, I destroyed his wife so I need to put him out of his misery,” Clarice said with a smirk, “It’s poetic.”

“Or cruel, I think that’s a good word too,” he teased.

She kissed his nose, undoing him. “Give me the cookies, John.”

“Why should I give you access to the polar bear plate?” he said, shifting so he could look at her.

“Because…” Clarice leaned forward and kissed him, which made him lower his arm, bringing the plate closer since he really just wanted to put it down so he could hold her. When it was close enough, Clarice reached over and snagged it, pulling it out of his grip. She leaned her forehead against his for a moment and then kissed the corner of his mouth mischievously. “You prefer penguins.”

“I didn’t know that,” he said, putting his hands on her waist.

“You definitely do.” She grabbed the other gingerbread man and it off its head, looking satisfied with herself.

John grinned. “Good to know.”


End file.
